


Sugar Daddies: A Bakery Shop AU

by kronette



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bad Puns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: My friend Alix was stuck in a meeting, so I entertained her with texts about Will and Hannibal having a food creation war in their bakery. It begged to be made into a full story. Just wait until you try their Orgasmic Truffle!





	Sugar Daddies: A Bakery Shop AU

Hannibal and Will were exceptional bakers in their own right, but together, their creations were transcendent. So much so that their friends insisted that they open a shop to share their delectable delights with the citizens of Baltimore. 

After laughing arguments and serious discussion, they purchased a foreclosed restaurant. While Hannibal fussed with the new appliances, Will supervised the installation of the signage over the entrance, declaring Sugar Daddies open for business. 

Hannibal’s ignorance of the term had Will smiling for days. 

When Hannibal realized what it meant, he retaliated with a new creation: Bottoms Upside Down Pineapple Cake. He ignored Will’s murderous glares as they sold out of the cake every day for the next two weeks. 

Hannibal enjoyed his slight dig at Will for all of two days, until he was diagnosed with a rather acute case of _coitus interruptus_ that lasted well into the third week of the cake’s offer. It’s abrupt departure from the menu was immediately followed by a much more sedate, smiling co-owner. 

The pineapple cake was replaced with a new creation of Will’s: a mini cannoli stuffed with strawberry mousse, drizzled with white chocolate. The Hannoli was even more of a success than the Bottoms Upside Down Cake, though Will could barely enjoy the fruits of his labors. 

Hannibal had not cooked dinner for him in eleven days. It had been the nature of their relationship since they moved in together: Will prepared breakfast, Hannibal dinner, and lunch went to whomever felt like it that day. To have those incredible smells lingering in the kitchen and not have even the leftovers to nibble on was cruel and unusual punishment. Not that Will was a bad cook; it was the idea that Hannibal would withhold his culinary skills the same way that Will withheld sex. 

The Hannoli was retired the next day, and Will gorged himself on sausage and feta stuffed tomatoes, leeks in mustard sauce, and lamb with mint salsa that evening. 

Before they realized it, they’d survived their first six months of business, accruing regular customers in addition to friends who stopped by on their way to work. They often sold out of most items before the doors closed at 3 pm, but what they didn’t sell was given to the surrounding restaurants or donated to the food bank, so as not to waste their efforts. 

Then one morning as Will carried out the first batch of scones to place in the display case, he noticed the small fountain sitting on the counter. 

“What’s this?” he asked as Hannibal brought out the cannoli, sliding the full tray into the case. 

Hannibal wiped his hands on his apron before smiling. “A chocolate fountain. I had an idea for incorporating more interaction with the food we serve. A selection of bite-sized fruit and pastries will be sold and customers allowed to dip them in the chocolate.” 

Will nodded slowly. “Not a bad idea. I take it you’ve ordered the chocolate and fruit already?” 

A quick nod of affirmation. “Once we’re finished with the morning’s prep, I’ll show you how the fountain works. I’d only planned for it to be used in the afternoon when we are less rushed and our patrons can enjoy the experience.” 

Suspicion began to crawl its way up Will’s spine as he glanced up at the menu board. “And what are you calling this offering? I highly doubt ‘Chocolat avec des fruits’ would draw the eye.”

A flush of embarrassment heated Will’s skin as Hannibal’s breath curled around his ear, “The Willentless Chocolate Fountain, as inspired by your singular focus on…”

“ _Yes_ , thank you, I get it,” Will interrupted before Hannibal could elaborate more on his sexual habits. He fixed Hannibal with a level stare. “I don’t know that I appreciate your use of my proclivities as a naming convention.” 

“I appreciate everything about you,” Hannibal murmured and tried to pull him in for a kiss. 

“ _Work_!” Will laughingly scolded, pushing against Hannibal’s chest, managing to shove him a step backward. “We don’t have time to fool around. You still need to get the strawberry cake batter going and I have to prep the dough for the stollen.” He headed back to the kitchen, yelping when his ass was slapped. “You’ll pay for that, Lecter,” he growled, letting enough of his desire heat his gaze before turning and leaving the still-smirking Hannibal at the front of the shop. 

The fountain drew interest the first day, then increased to a mild fervor as the week went on. Will was kept busy slicing kiwi, oranges, dragon fruit and kumquats, plus keeping the other fruits stocked, while Hannibal kept an eye on the customers, making sure they didn’t double-dip and that they used the provided skewers. 

The day the chocolate fountain was retired was a day past its welcome. Hannibal had tired of the constant clean-up and Will was annoyed that it detracted from their true passion of baking. 

Free to create again, Will experimented with recipes until a mix of gooey butter and pound cake meshed perfectly with a rich, dark chocolate center. A lattice work of chocolate and a dotting of blueberries adorned the top. ‘Delecterable Pounded Cake’ went up on the menu board the next morning. 

Two days later, Hannibal put out a tray with an open cinnamon log layered with honey, cranberries, vanilla and chocolate shavings, and wrote ‘In Flagrante Delicioso’ on the board. 

Will stopped in his tracks at seeing the menu board, causing the scones to slide on the tray he was carrying. “Don’t you think we’re getting a little risqué with names?” 

Hannibal graced him with a small twitch of his eyebrow. “We hardly cater to children, Will. Some of our offerings are laced with alcohol, which our patrons are well aware.” 

Will merely tilted his head in agreement, already thinking of a better name for the crème puffs he’d been working on. 

The Raspbrazen Hussy Crème Puff debuted a week later, filled with raspberry puree and a hint of curry for a hidden bite. Will gave his best innocent ‘what?’ look in answer to Hannibal’s narrowed eyes. 

Before they knew it, all of their offerings had terrible puns for names, adding to the allure of their inventory. The Coy Tart, made with orange marmalade and liqueur; the Broken-Hearted Chocolate Cake, made with bittersweet chocolate and raspberry sauce oozing from the center; and the Ménage à Torte with layers made from three varieties of chocolate. 

Hannibal drew the line at Orgasmic Truffle, however. “Clever is fine. Crude is not.”

Will set his jaw stubbornly. “They are creamed filled balls rolled in two kinds of nuts with icing flicked over it to look like cum splatter. Please, enlighten me as to what you would call it.”

The Orgasmic Truffle made its debut the next morning to a smirking clientele, Will with an air of contentment about him and Hannibal with a slightly dazed look in his eyes. If one paid close attention, you could see the slight limp as Hannibal went to retrieve a fresh batch of truffles. 

The bakery was a great success for the two years it was in operation. When Will's health deteriorated with headaches, night sweats and then hallucinations, an ER-ordered brain scan revealed encephalitis. To give Will time to recover properly, they were forced to close the shop. Another couple offered to take over the bakery on a temporary basis, with the option to buy out Hannibal and Will, should the need arise. 

A few weeks into Will’s treatment, he and Hannibal discussed the future of their bakery and came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be a hardship to sell it outright. Both had had their fill of serving the public and they would not miss the 2:30 am start to their mornings. 

Months later, lazing in bed at the sinfully decadent time of 7:10 am, Hannibal stretched and rolled over, his hand landing on the sheets rather than sleep-warmed skin. Blinking himself awake, he partially sat up, relaxing back to the bed again when the faint scent of waffles and coffee teased his nose. 

He waited patiently for their morning ritual, his eyes meeting Will’s when the door was opened and a tray preceded a still-sleepy Will returning to their bedroom. 

“Will I ever be able to surprise you in bed?” Will lamented as he set the tray down and kissed Hannibal good morning. 

Hannibal eased his fingertips through Will’s hair, taking care not to tug too hard. “That is a talent to which you are well-equipped,” he murmured, pulling Will down for another kiss. “What do you have for me this morning?”

Will smiled against his lips. “Do you mean food-wise, or…?” he wagged his eyebrows and Hannibal huffed out a laugh. 

“Let’s start with breakfast,” Hannibal replied, allowing Will to settle onto the bed with the tray. 

Will handed him napkin-wrapped silverware secured with an engraved silver napkin ring. “Waffles with pineapple, coconut milk and macadamia nuts, garnished with bananas and warmed maple syrup. The bacon is maple glazed with black pepper. The coffee is infused with clove and cinnamon.” 

Hannibal breathed in the mingling scents, picking out the hint of spice that Will hadn’t told him about. “And the sausage?” he asked as he sliced into the waffle. 

“That is from your secret stash,” Will remarked, taking a sip of coffee. “I merely warmed it.” 

They ate in comfortable silence, a pause after a bite hit the tongue as eloquent as a compliment spoken aloud. When the last of the syrup had been soaked up and the carafe nearly empty, Will settled back against the headboard, his silence clearly changed in meaning. 

“What is it you wish to discuss?” Hannibal asked as he set the tray on his bedside table. 

“You know the new owners of our bakery have changed the focus somewhat,” Will hedged. 

“Yes,” Hannibal replied curtly, taking a sip of coffee and offering no further comment. Even though the shop was no longer theirs, it pained him to see the depths to which it had sunk. 

Will let out an impatient breath and announced, “I’m interested in returning to baking. They have need of a decorator, but they’re more pressed to keep up with orders that come in.” 

Hannibal didn’t bother hiding his disgusted sneer. “You would enjoy baking cakes in the shape of genitalia?” 

“I would enjoy doing something that I have always enjoyed doing, which is baking and experimenting in the kitchen. What I make for us isn’t enough to stretch me creatively.” He shot Hannibal a warning look, halting the filthy comment about _stretching_ and _creativity_ before it could be voiced aloud. “This isn’t about what shape the cakes are in; it’s about how I create them: the texture and taste and surprise I can bring to the customer. It can be titillating and tasteful; there’s no reason to categorize it as strictly vulgar.” Will rolled toward his bedside table and retrieved a small sketch book. “I showed them these drawings and they’d like to me to start Monday morning at seven. I’d be home by four and it would only be three days a week.” 

Hannibal grumbled but took the sketch book, flipping up the cover and staring at an exquisite drawing of male genitalia; _his_ if he wasn’t mistaken. The next page highlighted the curve of a buttock and thigh, and the next of a pair of female breasts exposed above a lace bra. “How do you expect to translate these sketches into icing and piping?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

Will shrugged. “That will be part of the challenge. I’ve been doing a few experiments with flesh tones and texture that I believe have been successful. I haven’t had a chance to bake a cake in the correct shape. I was planning to do that this week.” 

Hannibal carefully turned to the next page, his sharp inhale belying his shock at seeing his face soft in slumber. His finger traced the creases in the pillow, fully expecting to feel the cotton texture. “I didn’t know you could draw so magnificently,” he admitted quietly, but secretly pleased that even after nine years together, there was still something to learn. 

The book was taken from his hands and tossed onto the table as Will settled on his lap. “I’m a man of _many_ hidden talents,” Will murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. “And just think, I’ll be coming home after spending a day creating erotic baked goods. Detailed veins,” he sucked at the pulse point in Hannibal’s neck, “erect nipples,” he slid down to take a nipple in his teeth, worrying it before soothing it with his tongue, “gorgeous abs,” he ran his tongue along Hannibal’s ribs, chest hair tickling his nose and lips before reaching the belly button, “and an absolutely perfect cock that’s made to be sucked.” 

The back of Hannibal’s head hit the headboard as Will released his half-hard cock to the air and engulfed him, going about halfway down before pulling back up and licking around the head. “You make it sound very…worthwhile,” Hannibal breathed, already embarrassingly close from the warm breath against his skin and the erotic picture that Will had painted. He keened low in his throat as Will took him all the way in, throat closing around the head as Will swallowed. 

It was over far too quickly, sweat only breaking out over Hannibal’s body as endorphins flooded his system. Breathing hard, he rolled his head to look at Will now settled beside him, wiping a thumb across his lips. Hannibal waited until Will took a gulp of coffee, then pounced. 

-=-=-=-=-

When Will came home from his first day back at work, Hannibal took one look at him and quickly set the knife down on the cutting board. He barely had time to remove his apron before Will was on him, kissing and untucking shirts and shoving pants out of the way. They didn’t make it out of the kitchen, but instead ended up sprawled across the cool floor, Will’s head resting on Hannibal’s abdomen, his hand still loosely wrapped around Hannibal’s softening cock. 

“I don’t have to ask how your day was,” Hannibal remarked breathlessly and with no small amount of admiration. 

“Two penis cakes, a vagina cake, an ass-shaped cake, a BDSM-themed sheet cake and four dozen nipple-topped cupcakes,” Will replied with a tired, wicked grin. “Not only was my work complimented by every patron who picked up their order, I also got a marriage proposal.” 

Hannibal’s fingers tightened in Will’s hair. “I hope you told them you were unavailable,” he replied evenly. 

Will shifted until he could look Hannibal directly in the eye. “I told him that his cake was an exact replica of your penis and his envy was palpable. It seems everyone wants you, but I’m the only one who gets to have you.” Something changed in Will’s expression and he slid down to rest his head against Hannibal’s chest. 

“Hannibal.” The word was weighted with meaning and Hannibal steeled himself for the discussion they had put off for years. “What would your answer be if I asked you to marry me?” 

Hannibal’s eyes closed as he stilled his hand in Will’s hair, cradling his head. “I’m confident that my answer would be the same as yours if I were to ask you.” 

“Till death do us part?” Will recited softly.

“Death by chocolate,” Hannibal replied, trying to lighten the mood.

“Death by blowjobs,” Will shot back cheekily, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s chest. 

“You are incorrigible,” Hannibal groused, squeezing a bit of Will’s flesh beneath his wandering hand. “And working at the bakery is only going to encourage your bad behavior.” 

“You didn’t object to my behavior a few minutes ago,” Will reminded him, and Hannibal had no choice but to concede defeat. 

“I like your bad behavior,” Hannibal admitted, pulling Will in for deep kiss. “But dinner is awaiting preparation and we both need to shower before I can continue.” 

Will flashed a naughty smile. “Order in Thai. I want to fuck you.” 

Flustered and aroused despite coming moments ago, Hannibal merely shook his head. He groaned as Will nibbled at his earlobe, biting harder than necessary, but it was his words that left Hannibal breathless. 

“I want to work so you so thoroughly, so completely, that you won’t put up even a token protest at having to eat food delivered in Styrofoam containers. You’ll simply open your mouth and I’ll place food on your tongue, and you’ll chew and swallow.” 

Hannibal swallowed as if mimicking Will’s command. “And what will you eat?” he asked, not able to completely mask the tremor in his voice.

Will leaned closer, their lips brushing as he murmured, “I’ll take the food from your tongue if you’re not quick enough.” 

Hannibal held the sides of Will’s face as he slipped his tongue between Will’s lips, imagining he could already taste the jasmine and ginger as it mixed with Will's unique flavor. Whether they were married or not, their bond went deeper than any vow and was more precious than any band of gold. A long as Will kept surprising him, Hannibal would endure anything, including food delivered in plastic containers. 

What Will didn’t know was that Hannibal would have his revenge in the morning, when the Dulce de Leche cheesecake he’d prepared was smeared over Will’s chest and patiently, delicately licked off, inch by inch, until he had Will begging beneath him. 

Hannibal smiled against Will’s lips as he was pulled to his feet and led into the bedroom, allowing Will to continue to think he had the upper hand. 

The End


End file.
